"Are you drunk?" he said, laying his finger on his nose; then laughed and went on.
The meadow was empty; not a soul was there. Landolin crossed it with a steady step, and ascending the speaker's stand--
"All you people there together, may the devil catch you all! Hutadi! Hutadi!" he cried, in a terribly strong voice. He seemed to expect that some one would come and fight with him; but no one came; so he descended from the stand, and went up the mountain road.
A sober Landolin struggled with a tipsy one.
"Fie! shame on you, Landolin!" he said to himself, "what a fellow you are--Fie upon you! A man like you drunk on the open road, before everybody--Let me alone, Titus! I don't want anything to do with you--I'm not drunk. And if I am--no--. The cursed wine at the Sword--at that time--Go away--away!--If you don't go, Vetturi, you shall--There, there you lie--"
He bent over to pick up a stone, and fell down.
Getting up again, he said to himself, as he would to an unruly horse: "Keep quiet, quiet! So, so!" And then he cried angrily: "If I only had a horse! At home there are twelve, fourteen horses and one colt--Who's coming behind me? Who is it? If you have any courage, come on! 'Tisn't fair to hit from behind. Come in front of me! Come, and I'll fight with you!"
From the steep hillside a stone rolled into the road, loosened by who knows what animal's flying foot? Landolin clenched both hands in his hair, that rose on end with fright, and cried:
"Are you throwing stones? That's it, self-defense! self-defense! Just wait!"
He stopped and said, "Don't drive yourself crazy, or they'll put you in an asylum."